


Whiskey and Salt Water (Bitter Tea)

by PrioritiesSorted



Series: Erosion [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Old Katara (Avatar), Old Zuko (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrioritiesSorted/pseuds/PrioritiesSorted
Summary: Katara could feel the precipice before her, and if she flung herself from it now, he could catch her or let her fall. Not a fall to the death; she had seen too much and lived too long now for such a thing to be fatal, but the bruises incurred would be tender for years to come. It would be safer to stay on solid ground—she had lived without him for fifty years, she could bear another ten, or twenty—she could still bring herself back from the edge of this, remain stable. That was what she had chosen before, and she had been happy enough.Katara hoped Zuko didn’t notice how her hands shook as she brought her teacup to her lips. The tea was lukewarm now, still with it’s not-quite-bitter edge. Katara jumped.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Lin Beifong & Katara, Lin Beifong/Kya II
Series: Erosion [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937920
Comments: 28
Kudos: 203





	Whiskey and Salt Water (Bitter Tea)

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Gotta write a sequel to 'Woodsmoke and Jasmine' because I left Lin too sad :(((
> 
> Me, writing the sequel: What if I made her... sadder :))))
> 
> If you're here for the Zutara you probably don't have to have read the previous fic in this series for this one to make sense? But it might help idk idk.

Lin eyed the whiskey bottle, gathering dust in her barely-used liquor cabinet, before putting her head down over her paperwork once more. It would be easy to drown herself that way, to forget everything and sink into oblivion, but Lin didn’t need comfort from a bottle—she didn’t need comfort at all. It was nothing to her that the entire city was celebrating the birth of a new airbender (though, Lin thought bitterly, they couldn’t yet know whether the screaming infant _was_ an airbender or not); she was merely trying to get this case filed and out of her hair by the end of the evening. _That_ was what mattered, her work, not that there was a celebration happening on Air Temple Island from which she was very firmly excluded. It was hardly a celebration she wanted to be at, but the Island and its people had been her family for so long, that even two years after her breakup with Tenzin, Lin found herself longing for the salty smell of the beaches and the sharp tang of the yuzu trees. 

She had well and truly exiled herself from that place, with the stunt she pulled after she found out—Lin pushed the memory away. It was in the past, and it would stay there. Reminiscing had never led anywhere good, in Lin’s experience, and she wasn’t about to start tonight. Still, she couldn’t shake the knowledge that Katara was no doubt on the Island with her family; she had been so kind to Lin when they had last seen each other, and in return Lin had—done what she’d done. The knowledge sat uncomfortably beneath Lin’s skin, that Katara was in Republic City at that very moment, disappointed in her. Lin shook her head, correcting herself—Katara was in Republic City at that very moment, not thinking about Lin at all. Lin doubted anyone had thought about her for a long time—not her mother, who must have heard about the break up but did not deign to return to Republic City; not Tenzin, who was no doubt busy celebrating his new wife and newer child; not her sister, not Katara, not Kya… 

A soft knock on her door jerked Lin from her self-pity spiral. It was late, and Lin slipped on one of her gauntlets, still lying where she left them by the entrance, before she opened the door. Katara stood in the hallway, smiling gently at her, and Lin instinctively hid her armoured hand behind her back as if she wasn’t Chief of Police, just a kid with a toy she was not supposed to have. Katara only chuckled, 

“Do you greet all your guests this way, Lin dear?” 

Lin shook her head, removing the gauntlet self-consciously before ushering Katara into her apartment. Katara looked around, no doubt noting that the room was barely lived-in, before she crossed to the liquor cabinet, poured two measures of whiskey into Lin’s best tumblers, and placed them on the coffee table. She settled with ease onto one of Lin’s barely used sofas, nodding to the empty seat beside her. Lin sat down gingerly, perching on the edge as if this were not her own home. 

“It’s good to see you, Katara,” Lin said, after a long silence. She knew she ought to offer her congratulations, but she couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject just yet. “How’s the new Avatar?” 

Air Temple Island had received word that the new Avatar had been discovered in the Southern Water Tribe only two weeks after Lin and Katara had spoken in Kya’s room. That night had been the first since their blow-up that Lin and Tenzin slept curled together in their bed, limbs entwined. The mix of joy and fresh grief was potent enough to allow them to forget the tensions and the distance that had plagued them for more years than they cared to admit, and that night Tenzin held Lin tight to his chest as his tears seeped into her hair. With her head pillowed on his chest, listening to the strength of his heartbeat, Lin had told herself—for the final time—that maybe she _could_ do it, she could be everything he needed her to be. Katara had left for the South Pole only a few days later. Too soon after that, Tenzin had decided that Lin’s best efforts were not enough. 

“Korra’s quite the handful,” Katara smiled. “She reminds me a little of you, actually.” 

“Oh?” 

“Determined to get everything right, and refusing to take anyone else’s advice about it.” There was a knowing twinkle in Katara’s eye that made Lin feel uncomfortable, too seen. 

“Did you go straight to the South Pole after you left the city?” Lin asked, and it was Katara’s turn to look wrong-footed. Lin knew Katara remembered the brief conversation they’d had on the dock, amid the chaos of Katara’s departure. _“It’s a long journey to the South Pole.”_ Lin had whispered, clasping Katara’s hands in her own. _“No-one would question it if you made port the Fire Nation on your way.”_

“I might have stopped over in Caldera,” Katara admitted, swilling the whiskey in her glass before she took a sip, “but only for a day.” 

* * *

_No-one made tea like Zuko. Technically, it was far from perfect—Iroh had always scolded his nephew for overbrewing—but Katara liked the not-quite-bitter edge of it. The cup steamed in her hands as Katara sat across from him, wondering what on earth had possessed her to take Lin’s advice, and turn up out of the blue in Caldera. Zuko had welcomed her with open arms, of course, and the silence between them was companionable as they sipped their tea, but Katara had caught him looking at her out of the corner of his good eye more than once already, concerned._

_“How is Izumi coping with her promotion?” Katara asked, before Zuko could say something too knowing, and have Katara spilling truth like tea across the table._

_He smiled as he replied, telling her how well his daughter was dealing with the politicians and the ambassadors, a better diplomat than he had ever been. She did all of it, he said, with ten-year-old Iroh clinging to her skirts and asking the too-insightful questions of childhood. His face was alight with pride as he described Iroh’s firebending; Zuko’s grandson was almost as much of a prodigy as his sister had been, with all of Azula’s poise and dedication, but none of her hard edges. Something fluttered in Katara’s stomach as she watched him, and she almost pushed it away before she remembered this was the very feeling she had come here to address, and for the first time in almost half a century, she allowed that fluttering to spread, humming through her veins and filling her with warmth. It was at once foreign and familiar, so overwhelming that, for a moment, Katara found herself breathless with it._

_“Katara, what’s wrong?” Zuko was frowning at her across the table, and before she could reply he had abandoned his tea to cross the room and drop to his knees at her side._

_“Nothing, Zuko, I’m perfectly well.” He still smelled of woodsmoke and jasmine, but she couldn’t reach out for him, not yet._

_“You’re crying.” A calloused thumb swept across her cheek—so warm—before Zuko held his hand up so she could see the tears glistening against his skin. She touched her cheek in surprise, and sure enough, it was wet. “What’s wrong?” Zuko repeated, and Katara shook her head._

_“It’s really nothing,” Katara said, and Zuko frowned at her, disapproving. The expression was so dear that Katara felt a new rush of emotion flood through her. She smiled. “Alright, it isn’t nothing, but I promise you I’m not upset.”_

_Zuko still looked unsettled, but he nodded and stepped back, retaking his former place across from her. Part of Katara ached at the absence of his warmth by her side, but she knew it was better this way; from a respectable distance, Katara could handle this like the seasoned diplomat she was, not the impulsive teenage girl he made her feel like. She cast around for where to begin, and she decided on the truth._

_“I had a conversation with Lin a few weeks ago, before they found Korra,” Katara began, and Zuko looked confused. This was hardly what he’d expected, no doubt, but Katara could find no other way to explain it to him: why she had chosen now as the moment to make her confession. “She’d had a fight with Tenzin, a big one.”_

_“May I ask what about?” Zuko said, and Katara explained,_

_“Children. Lin’s thirty six now, and still taking measures to ensure she won’t become pregnant.” Zuko’s eyebrow shot up, and Katara would have laughed if the subject weren’t so serious. “I understand why she doesn’t want to be a mother, but we all know the consequences of Tenzin never having children,” she continued, and Zuko nodded. “Lin does too, of course, and I think she’s spent a good many years lying to herself about being ready one day. I think she’s spent a good many years lying to herself about a lot of things.” Katara remembered the lost look on Lin’s face those short weeks ago, the way her usually strong body had trembled; it had been heartbreaking to see, and it was heartbreaking to remember._

_“A lot of things?” Zuko prompted, and Katara felt a jolt of adrenaline go through her. She could wave the question away, and pretend that her tears had been for Tenzin and for Lin, for fear that Aang’s people would still die out, despite his efforts. Instead, she took a deep breath and took a step closer to what she was still terrified to admit._

_“I don’t—I’m not certain that Tenzin would have been her first choice of my children, had she not been so set on staying in Republic City, on proving herself a worthy successor to Toph,” Katara admitted, and Zuko looked as though he was trying very hard not to react. He’d never been a master of concealing his emotions, and Katara watched him with amusement until he finally choked out,_

_“Really? I never would have thought she and Bumi—”_

_“I didn’t mean Bumi.”_

_“Oh.”_

_Silence stretched out between them, and Katara could read almost every thought flickering through Zuko’s wide eyes as he processed this information. Only a few years ago, Katara might have bristled at that, becoming defensive of her daughter’s preferences, too used to the people of her own tribe looking sideways at Kya. The Fire Nation may have been terrible in many regards, but its approach to gender and sexuality had always been more egalitarian than both the Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribes. Zuko had never batted an eyelid at Kya’s ever-changing romances, and if he was floundering now, it was because Lin and Tenzin had always seemed like such an inevitability._

_“Kya might not be an airbender, but she’s certainly a nomad,” Zuko said eventually. “I can see how that would have been difficult for Lin to deal with, no matter how she felt. She always wanted things to be... ”_

_“Stable?” Katara suggested, and Zuko smiled._

_“Yes.”_

_Katara could feel the precipice before her, and if she flung herself from it now, he could catch her or let her fall. Not a fall to the death; she had seen too much and lived too long now for such a thing to be fatal, but the bruises incurred would be tender for years to come. It would be safer to stay on solid ground—she had lived without him for fifty years, she could bear another ten, or twenty—she could still bring herself back from the edge of this, remain stable. That was what she had chosen before, and she had been happy enough._

_Katara hoped Zuko didn’t notice how her hands shook as she brought her teacup to her lips. The tea was lukewarm now, still with it’s not-quite-bitter edge. Katara jumped._

_“We have that in common, Lin and I,” she said, and Zuko’s hand froze, his own teacup suspended in front of his chest. He swallowed before he set it down without drinking._

_“What do you mean?” He asked, his voice careful and measured, as though he was practicing ease._

_“I mean that I regret leaving it so long to talk with her. I had seen it from the beginning—she chose stability over passion, she chose what a lot of people would consider a lesser love, for the promise of safety. I recognised it because her choices reminded me of my own.” Katara’s heart was beating faster with every word. She was hurtling off the precipice, in freefall. “But Lin isn’t me, and it wasn’t enough for her, she wasn’t prepared to sacrifice part of herself to be what he needed.”_

_“Katara,” Zuko said, his voice strained. “Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t—that you and Aang—”_

_“I’m trying to tell you that if things had been different—in another life—I’m trying to tell you that I wasn’t in love with Aang when we got together. I was in love with someone else.”_

_“But you did love him, eventually? Aang?” Zuko pressed._

_“Yes.”_

_“So why bring this up now?” There was something slightly desperate in his voice, or perhaps Katara was only seeing her own emotion in him. He had to know why she was here._

_“Lin said I should tell him, the man I—I think she was right,” Katara said. For a long moment, Zuko said nothing._

_“So are you going to?” he said, his voice small but ringingly clear. “Tell him?”_

_Katara took a breath._

_“I just did.”_

_Zuko’s knuckles grew white around his teacup. His breathing was shallow as he stared across the table at her, his expression for once utterly unreadable. The cup in his hand began to steam, then bubble, though he didn’t seem to notice. Katara wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find the words. She was hurtling through the air with nothing but earth to break her fall._

_Suddenly, Zuko hissed and dropped the cup, sending shards of pottery and hot tea skittering across the table. He stood up abruptly._

_“I have to go.”_

_Katara hit the ground._

* * *

“And?” Lin prompted, more curious than she would like to admit about what had transpired between Katara and the Fire Lord. A not insignificant part of her felt traitorous for hoping that they had worked things out, as if she was dishonouring Aang’s memory by wanting Katara to be happy after his death. If _she_ felt that way, Lin could only imagine the turmoil that Katara had been suffering. 

“That’s a story for another time,” Katara said, and Lin let the subject drop. When Katara didn’t want to discuss something, there was no discussing it. Lin respected that. 

The sticking point, however, was that whatever Katara _did_ want to discuss, Lin would rather not. There was only one reason that Katara would be here instead of on Air Temple Island, celebrating with the rest of her family. Lin had fucked up, and she knew it. Katara might be polite about it, she might tiptoe around the subject and make nice, but Lin knew what was coming all the same. She might as well pull the sticking plaster from the wound. 

“Whatever it is you’re here to tell me, Katara, just tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.” 

Katara only frowned at her, 

“And what is it you’re expecting me to say, Lin?” 

“I don’t know!” Lin exclaimed, “I don’t know what you’re doing here. What do I matter to any of you now? Tenzin dumped me so I—none of you want anything to do with me, and I get it, but I don’t need to hear how disappointed you are, because I know, okay, I really, truly do.” Lin was shaking, unable to stop the flow of words tumbling from her mouth. Perhaps if she just kept talking then Katara would never reply, would never leave. “You don’t have to tell me to stay away from Tenzin and what’s-her-name and their little bundle of joy, because honestly they are the last people in the world I want to be near.” 

Lin had spent all evening trying to avoid the memory, trying to avoid thinking about what had happened one month after hers and Tenzin’s fight, twenty days after the discovery of the new Avatar, one week after Katara’s departure. Lin had barely stepped off the ferry when she saw Tenzin waiting for her outside the main house; she had felt his nervousness as soon as her feet found earth, his emotion vibrating through the ground beneath her, and Lin’s own heartbeat had quickened. He was leaving her, it transpired, and Lin could only stare as he’d mumbled his way through his reasons—exactly the ones she had imagined—utterly numb. It was only when a girl had emerged from the house—barely into her twenties, if she was even out of her teens—and taken Tenzin’s hand, that anger had risen up in place of blank grief. Tenzin was saying something, probably trying to defend himself—trying to justify spending the last however many months lusting after a _child_ while Lin tore herself apart for failing to be everything he needed—but Lin had barely listened. Lin was looking at the girl, who was in turn looking at Lin as though _she_ was the interloper here, as if _Lin_ was the one who didn’t belong on this island, the one she’d grown up on, the one that was more Lin’s home than her mother’s house had ever been. Perhaps there was a part of her that had been relieved, that had felt the pressure melt from her shoulders, but the anger had burned so hot within her that she could feel little else. Maybe this _was_ for the best, but Lin hadn’t cared. She reached into the ground, and she _ripped._

With the sound of rending earth still ringing in her ears, Lin forced herself to look at Katara, who only stared back at her with tears in her large, blue eyes. 

“Lin,” was all she said, and Lin could feel tears welling, threatening to spill. Katara seemed to have that effect on her, no matter how many walls Lin had built up around herself. But that was the nature of water and stone, she supposed; the waves would lap, gentle, against the cliffs, turning them slowly to softest sand. 

“I hope you know that none of us think that of you, Lin. When I heard what had happened—I didn’t reply to Tenzin for a long while because I was so _angry_ with him. Perhaps what happened at Air Temple Island wasn’t your finest moment, but believe me I can understand the urge.” There was a conviction in Katara’s voice that Lin couldn’t dismiss, and she remembered Sokka once telling her that Katara was a force to be reckoned with in her youth, especially when she was angry. 

“You know—” Katara paused, as though weighing up whether she should continue, “Kya almost didn’t come.” 

There was something else Lin had been trying not to think about. The idea that Kya was in the city, so close and yet never further away from her, had been playing at the back of Lin’s mind for longer than she cared to acknowledge. That she would choose to stay away from the birth of her brother’s first child struck Lin as unlike Kya. 

“Too busy with her travels?” Lin asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. 

“She refused, Lin.” 

* * *

_Kya was waiting for Katara when she reached the South Pole, along with a letter from Tenzin. Kya chattered happily as she settled Katara into her new home—or her old one, Katara supposed—and something about the photographs and paintings of their family mocked her._ You betrayed us, _they seemed to say,_ you betrayed us and you didn’t even get what you wanted out of it. Are you pleased with yourself?

_She ripped open the letter from Tenzin irritably, staring blankly at the page for a moment before she began reading. Tenzin was usually clear and direct in his communications, but this was a barely coherent, rambling thing, and its contents were so shocking that Katara had to read more than one passage back, unable to process the information. Kya was chattering away in the background, but her words washed over Katara, until a warm hand landed on her shoulder._

_“Mom? Mom is everything alright?” Katara started. She had almost forgotten Kya was there, and passed the letter over wordlessly. Kya scanned the page, frowned, and scanned it again. A thousand expressions flickered through her eyes before Kya’s face settled into a wry half smile._

_“Not even Dad could take Tenzin’s side on this one,” she said, dropping the letter back onto the table, where it sat like evidence at a crime scene. “Though even I never thought he’d do something so shitty.”_

_Katara felt like she ought to chastise her daughter, to point out Tenzin’s need for children, to find some justification for the way he’d acted, but she couldn’t help agreeing._

_“I remember Pema. She’s twenty one, I think. Maybe twenty two.”_

_Kya whistled through her teeth._

_“Ah, so he loves her for her intellect.”_

_Katara knew she should say something at that, and she let out a disapproving,_ “Kya,” _though her heart wasn’t in it. Kya had years of practice pretending at nonchalance, but she couldn’t fool her mother; there was something bubbling beneath the surface, not quite hurt and not quite hope. She didn’t show it, though, only rolled her eyes and said,_

_“I’m sure she’s got a beautiful womb. You’re all good here, right? I’m gonna head home.” Kya was shrugging on her parka before she’d even finished speaking, and Katara hesitated for a moment before calling out to her retreating back,_

_“You could go to Republic City, if you wanted. I’m fine here.”_

_Kya stopped a few feet from the door. They had never acknowledged her feelings for Lin, and to speak of them in the open felt almost like she was breaking Kya’s confidence, though there was no-one to hear her but the two of them._

_“I’m not a consolation prize,” was all Kya said, her voice cold and certain in a way that was entirely at odds with what Katara knew her daughter to be. Kya closed the door hard behind her, the sound harsh in the silence, and Katara let her head fall into her hands. She must have lost her touch, in her old age; every time she opened her mouth she hurt someone she loved._

* * *

“She refused?” Lin parrotted back, confused. 

“When we first heard Pema was pregnant, when Tenzin wrote to ask me and Kya to deliver the child, Kya refused. She said she wanted nothing to do with either of them, not after what they’d done to you.” Lin could only stare blankly; this made even less sense than Katara’s presence. “I convinced her to come, in the end, for the child if not for Tenzin. Though if I’m honest, I felt almost as strongly as she did.” 

An errant tear slipped down Lin’s cheek, and she brushed it away angrily. There was no reason for her to be crying, but that one tear seemed to be enough to open the floodgates. She continued to brush away the tears as they came, desperately trying to control her breathing, but it was all too quickly slipping away. Lin couldn’t remember the last time—had there even _been_ a last time—that the blame hadn’t been placed squarely on her for the trouble in her personal life. She was too highly strung (according to Su), too stubborn (her mother liked to remind her) too unwilling to make sacrifices (Tenzin told her, hand in hand with a teenager). Lin knew she wasn’t blameless, not for any of it, but the simple knowledge that there was someone out there in the world who was on her side, the knowledge that _Kya_ was on her side—Lin choked out a sob. 

At some point, Katara had wound her arms around Lin’s torso, rocking her slightly. Lin felt like a child again, and her cries were as unrestrained as they had been when she was too young to know any better. She felt small in Katara’s arms, with gentle hands smoothing down her hair, and a low voice soothing her. She wept for what felt like hours, until she was wrung out and hiccoughing wetly in Katara’s lap. When she had her breathing under control again, she attempted to sit up, only to have strong arms hold her in place. 

“I’m so sorry, Lin.” Katara whispered into her hair. “I should have come to see you sooner. I didn’t think, I—I was a little preoccupied.” 

* * *

_Katara nearly jumped out of her skin when someone pounded on the door; it was not the polite rap of the White Lotus, always so sorry to disturb Master Katara, but a demand for her attention. Katara’s heart jumped into her mouth, imagining the worst—the compound was secure, and well guarded, but Katara knew too well that the right assassin could break through any level of security. If something had happened to Korra, Katara would never forgive herself._

_Katara and Korra had taken to each other immediately; the new Avatar was a bundle of energy so intense that Katara barely had time to think about her bruised pride (her bruised heart). The little girl was so full of confidence—as she should be, no Avatar before her had known they could bend other elements at her age, never mind control them with the ease that Korra already did—so full of life and spirit. Attempting to get her to stay in one place long enough to get some training done was a challenge all in itself, and Katara’s first fortnight in the South Pole passed in a blur of activity. It had been a welcome distraction from Tenzin’s letter—still unreplied to—sitting on her desk, from Kya’s uncharacteristic quietness, from Katara’s own guilt._

_She exchanged a worried look with Kya, who moved to open the door, but Katara held out a hand and rose to answer it herself._

_Zuko stood on her threshold, wrapped in several layers of fur and wool, still shivering despite the relatively mild spring weather. Katara blinked hard, but when she opened her eyes he was still standing there._

_“Hello K—katara,” he said, his teeth chattering around the words. “I’m sorry t—to drop in like this. May I—” he looked past her into the warmth of the hut, and she stepped back to allow him entry. A hundred thoughts crowded Katara’s mind, fear and hope and shame all curdled within her as Zuko followed her down the short passageway towards the living space._

_“Katara, I wanted to—” Zuko began, only to cut himself off as they entered. “Kya! How wonderful to see you. I didn’t know you’d returned from your travels.”_

_Katara’s blood froze; in her shock at Zuko’s arrival, she had momentarily forgotten Kya’s presence._

_“Hey, Uncle Zuko. Is everything alright? What are you doing here?” Kya asked, frowning, and Zuko scrambled to answer,_

_“There’s a—a political matter I wanted to get your mother’s opinion on. I’ve always valued her insight on issues I struggle to see my way through.”_

_“I thought Izumi had taken over as Fire Lord,” Kya said. Her voice was light and teasing rather than suspicious, but Zuko had always been a terrible liar._

_“Izumi may be the captain of the ship now, but she still requests guidance from the first mate every once in a while.” Zuko smiled, and Katara was surprised at the smoothness of his response. Kya seemed placated, though, and rolled her eyes as she said,_

_“I’ll leave you two to the political talk. It’s great to see you, Uncle Zuko; can you stay long?”_

_“I have to be back in Caldera in a couple of weeks,” Zuko told her, reluctantly. His gaze flickered to Katara as he spoke, and she wondered if it was just an excuse, so he could say what needed saying and be gone as fast as possible. Kya, however, seemed not to notice, and shrugged on her parka._

_“That’s a shame. You’ll just have to come visit again soon,” Kya said, pressing a kiss to Zuko’s cheek on her way towards the door. “Don’t keep her up too late, she’s been working herself to the bone these last weeks.”_

_As soon as the door closed behind Kya, silence fell over the hut, intense and oppressive. Katara could still only stare at Zuko, caught between the joy of seeing his face again and the dread of what he was here to say. Perhaps he’d been telling the truth after all, perhaps there was some Fire Nation business he wanted her help with; no matter how he felt about her at this moment, Zuko would never jeopardise the peace of his nation because of a personal issue. Maybe they would spend the evening discussing politics while she tried not to look at him too frequently, unable to force her feelings back into the box she had kept them in for the last fifty years. It might have been seconds, or minutes, or hours before Katara realised she hadn’t said a word since his arrival, and she blurted,_

_“What are you—” at the same moment as Zuko began,_

_“Katara, I—”_

_They each cut themselves off, and the silence returned. Zuko looked at her, half pleading, and she nodded at him to continue._

_“Firstly I want to apologise for—for how I acted when you came to visit,” he began. It was unexpected, and Katara fought to keep her expression neutral as he continued, “I was shocked, and I was angry, but I should have controlled myself better. By the time I’d cooled down, by the time I’d processed—you had already left and I wanted to follow you straight away but Izumi needed me and I knew I had to make things right but sending a letter just seemed… wrong so I came here as soon as I could.” He raised a hand to the back of his head, tugging at the hair there, and suddenly the Zuko she had come to know—the calm, wise leader, the diplomat—was gone, replaced with the awkward boy she had fallen in love with. For a second, Katara’s fear was replaced with an unbearable fondness._

_“I’m still… I’m still angry with you, Katara,” he continued, and her heart sank. “But I can understand why you did what you did. I understand why you never told me before now even if I wish—no, I know everything would have been different if—and I wouldn’t trade Izumi for—” he cut himself off again, taking a deep breath, and Katara felt a traitorous sliver of hope slip under her skin. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying. “Agni—Katara you make me feel like a teenager again. The rights words don’t come because there’s so much_ feeling _in the way. I’m still angry, but I can’t lose—I won’t waste any more time. We’ve got so little of it left and I’ve loved you for so long and I know that you might not still feel the same as you did when we were younger, I don’t expect—why are you looking at me like that?”_

_Katara didn’t know how she was looking at him, only that she could barely believe what she had just heard. She had half a mind to ask him to repeat himself, but that would have been cruel. Instead, she stepped into his space, so close that she could feel the way his blood began pumping a little faster as she did so, and raised a hand to his cheek._

_“You’re rambling,” she said, smiling._

_“And you’re crying,” Zuko replied, sweeping the drops from her face with gentle hands. “Again.”_

_“I’m happy,” said Katara, and for the first time in years, she meant it. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have just—but I didn’t want to waste any more time either.”_

_“Don’t.” he said, hushed and insistent. “For now I just—Katara, may I?”_

_His gaze was on her lips, as though they were as full and enticing as they had been when she was a girl, and Katara nodded._

_In Katara’s imaginings they were always young when they did this. She had never rooted her fantasies in reality, because they didn’t belong there, so she couldn’t say that kissing Zuko was exactly as she’d always imagined it. Yet somehow, it was everything Katara had always dreamed of; Zuko’s hand brushed across her cheek as though it were still full and unwrinkled, tangled in her hair as though it was brown rather than white. His lips pressed against her own with the desperation and insistence of youth, and when she reached up to cup his face in her hands—so caught up in the kiss that the scratch of his beard beneath her palms surprised her—he wound an arm around her waist and pulled her to him as though her body was still slim and supple._

_When they eventually parted—only as far as they needed to, still tangled in each other’s arms—Zuko was looking at her as though he could barely believe she was real, and Katara shared the sentiment. She brushed a strand of white hair away from Zuko’s face, tucking it behind his good ear._

_“Come back with me,” Zuko breathed. “Come back to the Fire Nation, just for a little while.”_

_“Or you could stay.”_

_Zuko sighed, his forehead creasing in a frown Katara wished she could stroke away._

_“If only I could, but I wasn’t lying about Izumi—there’s a summit in two weeks that she needs me there for. I’ll barely make it back in time as it is.”_

_Once again, Katara felt herself pulled in opposing directions. She wanted so badly to throw caution to the wind and leave with him, to climb on the back of a dragon and fly into the sunset with the man she’d loved (had never stopped loving, she could now admit to herself) and forget her duty. But her duty remained, regardless._

_“I’m needed here, Zuko. Korra—”_

_Zuko cut her off, dropping her waist to cup her face in both his hands, looking at her so intently Katara thought she would melt under the force of it. His eyes hadn’t changed at all—still whiskey-gold and full of fire._

_“Korra is barely three, and she is well protected here. I think you’ve given enough of your life to the Avatar,” he said, gently. It wasn’t a reprimand, but a reminder. “Please, Katara, come with me?”_

_Katara looked once more over the edge of the precipice, into the wide expanse below. He was waiting for her at the bottom, as he always had been. Katara jumped._

_“Yes.”_

* * *

“People are capable of such forgiveness, Lin.” Katara said, her voice vibrating with an emotion Lin did not understand “And that includes you; I just hope you can learn to forgive yourself as well.” 

Lin huffed, wiping away the last remnants of her tears on the back of her hand. 

“That might take a while.” 

“Perhaps,” Katara shrugged. “I suppose it depends how much you think you have to forgive yourself for.” She looked at Lin out of the corner of her eye, something that could be called a smirk playing on the edges of her lips. “You might start with whatever happened between you and Kya. She’s forgiven you for it, after all.” 

Lin scoffed. 

“Aren’t you tired of me fucking up your kids’ lives?” 

“Language, Lin.” Katara said firmly, and Lin rolled her eyes. “You’re being hard on yourself again—I only want you to be happy. I want Kya to be happy.” 

_I want Kya to be happy._ Lin couldn’t argue with that, but every time she’d felt like jacking it all in, felt like quitting the force and setting off to search for the woman she’d been missing for twenty years, Lin still held herself back: _I want Kya to be happy._ Lin had never made anyone happy, and Kya mattered too much to risk it. 

“You really think—” Lin found herself asking, voice small. “You think we could do that for each other?” Katara shook her head, 

“No-one else has the power to make you happy, Lin; happiness is something you give to yourself. If this old lady has learned anything new in the last couple of years, it’s that if you want happiness, you have to reach out for it.” Katara placed a hand on Lin’s cheek, stroking over the scarring there. “Perhaps reaching out will make you vulnerable, perhaps it will hurt you, but in the end it’s worth it. I promise.” 

Lin could feel the tears pricking at the backs of her eyes again, and she pulled away. 

“You’re not my mother, Katara. It’s not your responsibility to look after me,” she muttered. It wasn’t what Katara deserved, but Lin felt scraped raw and bleeding; she couldn’t bear to be touched, even by healing hands. 

“I know that,” said Katara, evenly. “But I want to. You deserve to have someone looking after you, the spirits know you won’t do it yourself.” 

“I’ve always looked after myself,” Lin snapped. She could feel her hackles rising, upset and embarrassed and wishing she wasn’t _like this._ She braced herself for Katara to snap back, to discard her like everyone else had, but Katara only smiled sadly. 

“You may not want to hear this, Lin,” she said, raising her hand again to brush a loose lock of hair behind Lin’s ear, “but you are so like your mother.” 

Lin didn’t know what to say to that, and Katara didn’t give her time to answer. She stood from the sofa and swallowed the rest of the whiskey in her glass before turning to Lin. 

“I know you want to be alone, and that’s alright, but please think about what I said. You’re a good person, Lin, and you deserve to be happy. Trust me when I tell you it’s never too late.” 

With that, Katara left her. Lin couldn’t bear to watch her go, staring forward at the wall as she heard the door slide closed. She reached for her own glass, still untouched, and knocked back the entire contents, slamming the tumbler back on the table as whiskey burned down her throat. Her desire to throw the glass, to watch it shatter against stone walls, was smaller than usual, and she knew she had Katara to thank for that. 

Lin stared at the pair of empty glasses on the table, and wondered how long it had been since there had been two of anything set out in her apartment. She’d eaten every meal alone, every cup of tea and every glass of whiskey consumed alone for two long years. Despite Katara’s apparently limitless wisdom, despite her patience and her generosity and the ease with which she smoothed down Lin’s rough edges, she had been wrong about one thing. 

Lin didn’t want to be alone, not anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> There WILL be a part 3 and she WILL be happy I PROMISE. 
> 
> HOWEVER I will probably angst about the structure of that one even more than I have angsted about the structure of this one it has given me much stress please validate it and me thank u.


End file.
